Best Labial Poems
Thank you, for excavating from dead tongue
Under midden of lies
The archive of our own history
The outlines of identity
So we under obscurity white sheet
Could find resurrection of self
In another voice oppressed
But unconceding of its comeliness.
Before I grew old I was only school
Afraid to be nobody unless I conformed
To class, and status and creed.
I could not see then how I consented
To condone the designation of a weed.
Before I was old
I did not even know weeds were revolutionaries
Resisting the pharmacopia of gods
And heal me in the old ways again.
Let this vernacular, this dialect
From in between the interspaces of existence
Reworking the problem of my preservation,
Let it flowers like weed
Gushing from unexpected places after rain.
Thanking you for understanding how to spade
With it the introspection of itself
Match with veins, leaves and flowers
The pattern of remain alive.
The tongue is archive of the soul, and language
The repository of all the culture holds.
Sure, folk songs are sweets, but our stories are more
Than words. Babel has no meaning
If it confused only words to flock in nearer trees.
Something deeper there was lost
Perhaps the lens by which we tell who we are
The frightening part of God,
The vision that must be consumed in hell
The staircase that if we trod
Would tear the scream of worlds from us
Making a new dilemma out of dust.
I sing not for Babel heights but the rights
To flock the founding tree of truth.
Thank you, for permitting me to speak again
To taste the lilt and roll of visceral sounds
Wearing glottis masks and labial screens
Spreading the germ of belief
And the sanctity of self in an ubiquitous air.
Folk people, balmyard man, healer
Kuminah giver, obeah veteran
Abeng blower, anancy teller, long spoon cook
Your anthropology will be the first page
Of my exumed biography, my life given back
Like raft to me. I am going to dig the moon.
Categories:
labial, history, visionary, old, me,
Form:
Free verse
The Poet’s fire
My well had dried up empty with all that remained in silence
a viscous gloom of scorching drought of inaudible screams
Painfully lost for words and devoid of meaning all
emotions and images were stuck in blank waning script
Corroded mumbles congested the voice trapped in my mind
concealed what seemed to never have been
An ink well barren from broken nibs shielding the mask
distanced withering intimacy’s length when the fire had gone
One step removed from homeless demise you lit my deserted passion
engulfed me with lava of a hot lover’s touches rhythm and rhyme
Two moons now stream as one seam of dreams wet wild and vital
Lunar infinity in pasturous pleasure full measure and intimate treasure
I drink from your fountain now we quench each other’s thirst
push and pull nectar through wetlands from gravity’s delight
Lotus flowers in our hair let down tingle in all the right places
Venus mango delta overflows shivering meter’s crescendo
We play our chords strings tunes inscribe fingertip poems from skin onto
skin tattoo love and compassion nibble irresistible verses
Kindle from mating of souls pulse convulse and create one language
one foreplay one intro one story one mountain one flute
We are children of delight lusting thrusting shivering from line to line
in each others arm loins dusting the cobwebs of yesteryear
You are my poet tree in motion we are art works in progress and
when the night has passed we write another breathless story
Our spring narrates in heart blood and passion now that fever and yearning
comes to soothe and to slither from serpent to labial match
You are my Goddess of tell-fire I am the Prince with that peach for your beach
When you crowned my muted longing you once more gave me words
Categories:
labial, celebration,
Form:
Free verse
In the ultimate I ponder and resonates
Sporadic melancholy treading thoughts
Void pneumatic aspirations that perspire in nothingness
The peripheral space spurts erratic waves
Spewed fantasy and ejaculates conglomeration
Palpitation of erroneous premature baby
That which is not flushed down is a street arching
Vivid escapades flowed sluggish and sticky
Unwinding terrestrial route it’s a dead end
Never to end but in illusion
Ruminates and castigated spits vomits
Miasma inhalation that draws petrified lunatics
Kindled joyful cleave less than platonic
Lost in haziness of pleasurable moments causing love anguish
Thrusting Warm Velvet labial interior
Sensuousness mesmerized at anatomical fission and fusion
Malodorous soaked sweat-draped dripping bodies
Enclosed, staffed and steam simmering moisture
Equivocal musty air radiated from euphoric entanglement
Perplexed awe mouth agape
Categories:
labial, social,
Form:
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Categories:
labial, betrayal, body, father, funny
Form:
My heart erupts like a volcano
bursting with scathing songs,for
the lobes of tyranny,fattened
by the deceptive lyrics,from
sycophantic lips
My tongue,a molten kalam,shall
consume the valve of fear,preaching
caution to frustrated souls,now
my music must rise ,from
the din of ancient sighs,remixed
in the swelter of pain and anguish,rehashed
in the gurgling sound,of
blighted bellies
My anvil honed labial,shall
spin arrows to pierce,their
stubborn ossiccles and
invade the cosmos of haughty drunkeness
My strident cry shall spin a noose,for
the drooling neck of despotism,hawking
chaos on our conflagrating land,where
swamp dwellers bath with spittle,and
princes pawn peasant's heritance
My touching tune shall rouse,fascist
minds to the scent ,of
our brewing anger,and
restless impatience
I shall continue to sing until,this
gathering storm harvest hearts,and
stir furious fists,to deal
deathly blow to the cenotaph of tyranny.
Categories:
labial, angst, social, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
an archway
an archway opens onto a soporific plaza
which pours outwardly in colorful asymmetric
displays that once incited the bones of an organic past
steeped in a rich broth, an ancestral heaving stew,
quietly simmering to a point of boil.
the humble ones, once, alive to the core, move to and fro,
cornered and stultified by conventions, babbling broken mantras,
they attempt to sooth the spirits daunting deadly pricks
the lipstick girls of the labial folds, who exist beyond the pale
of a refracting sun’s light, hover between ghostly spheres
of a lost sacerdotal history;
wet with gloss, they yearningly enchant youthful acolytes,
who, painted in salacious priestly pastels,
patterned up to placate the Ones,
are fully endowed and exuding in virginal carnality,
fall willingly into their own demise, caressed by the
spreading tongs, in the act of sacrificial obligation.
an archway opens out to a thriving and heaving plaza.
Categories:
labial, dark, gothic, mystery, mythology,
Form:
Free verse
Sand only looked to alight,
find some alone-time in the muck
no fuss was meant, it is only a space
as big as a grain taken, escaping its identical
brethren of billions on the sea floor.
Oyster only opened his rigid
lips to rinse, to breathe the brine,
to move a snack through his labial palps
in private, when a tiny intruder, unwelcome,
unbidden, disturbs the digestion,
initiates the unintended consequence
of oyster's defensive reaction.
Called upon, mitigation arrives over time.
Nacre warriors, layer by layer, smooth
sand's edges to soothe oyster's irritation,
an effort that deafens new pleas from a grain
now only looking to go home.
In the dark-churned slime, desire
emerges as a luster in the mud, a dazzling
monster named Pearl, radiant and angry, hard
with longing to be unloosed from her mucous
roots. She sends dreams as currency of streaming
shimmers, to bolster her chances of freedom
from an endless, watery night.
Lured by the glimmer, human hands pry open
shy bivalve, tongue and lips slurp up the middle
like a salty kiss, until teeth accidental onto eager Pearl
warmed by the breath.
For the indiscretion she now sits pocketed in slacks
belonging to hands with plans to pierce her spine,
string her along, then hang her on another lover's neck—
stranger to sand and pearl, already grown
wayward in closeness, is a new desire that oyster
degrade on ocean's bottom, turn into sand and join them
on the choker.
Categories:
labial, allusion, analogy, nature, word
Form:
Free verse
Once we were a room,
a space for the spilling of pagan oaths,
for the pleading of primal prayers.
Now that room rages
upon an emptiness only my blood hears.
Bondage was good for us.
“You’re not my master”, she would say,
“you are me taking me”. She was right,
I would lose myself in her.
She’s related to George Washington,
at least by sexual union.
A man of his time.
A black girl for all times.
As her descendent she shared herself with me.
I imagine her now as she arranges
the form and flavors of desire.
Her skin a sensual braille for my shaping hands.
Her limbs submissive yet grasping a
binding chimera. Flesh capturing silks;
blind Labial dances preface
a choreography of complying violence.
We struggle with the glottal language
of inarticulate gods,
we’re deep sea divers bound to an erotic gravity.
This place is a womb
for the birthing of tattooing hungers.
Rooms enter rooms until dark suns
open our mouths with their electric flares.
Somewhere in another story,
an aged Washington shoves
his shriveled member
into another girl – another room.
A place we were pleased to burn down
again, and again.
Categories:
labial, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
My darlin’s muffins are nutrient dense,
Packed with whole grain goodness
(In a metaphoric sense.)
Mixed with free-range femininity
And assorted organic delights.
To make the flavor linger
I take long, leisurely bites.
It goes down salty and sweet,
Like a lover’s naughty kiss.
I let it nourish my soul
And give me gastronomic bliss.
I savor the aroma as a true enthusiast.
I like her bagels topped with poppy seed.
Baby, baby, baby, baby, bay:
Them be some fine bi-labial plosives, indeed!
Categories:
labial, allegory, sensual,
Form:
Burlesque
Ana's lips were cunning
as a linguist she knew
how to twist them
and elocution lessons
had done her tongue
a lot of flexible good
smooth and passionate
she explored his mouth
labial passion play
pleasured unknown depth
crescendo culmination
unspeakable joy
the intimate sensation
spread through her body
an intimate mind
caught fire and seized
reason with emotions
she was a writer
but some feelings
cannot be expressed
with mere words
on eloquent thought
further aroused
ink well and nib
happily mingling
she knew that he was a poet
and she the receptacle
of pure poetry in motion
25th August 2021
Categories:
labial, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
Why do those lips
moisten my own - years on?
That labial goodbye, with its embrocate
of memory
returns as a tangible ghost.
A time-traveling incubi latches upon my mind again.
A hummingbirds sip,
a recoil of sensory jack-hammers.
Today, words are meaningless,
lips remain pursed to that goodbye moment.
I did not know it was the end back then, but
it is perfectly clear now -
I am over it.
Categories:
labial, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
tropical raindrops in the open orchid
labial portals
loosely folded
a rouged acceptance
a decorative wheelbarrow
as green as wet moss
tilts to see
small pungent gardens
listen
to their hothouse fevers
Categories:
labial, poetry,
Form:
Free verse